


Cause you're hot and I'm cold

by promisingahurricane



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Commando - Freeform, Cum Swallowing, Dom/sub Undertones, HaleCest, Jealousy, Kissing, Lydia is awesome, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Mildly Dubious Consent, NSFW, Obedience, Peter is a Little Shit, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plotting, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Praise, Punishment, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells, Smut, Stiles is cold, Teasing, Touch-Starved, Witches, a little plot, and peter definitely likes that, angsty, filthy underwear, makeout, sexually explicit, stiles likes a little pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:08:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5546690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/promisingahurricane/pseuds/promisingahurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is cold, the pack worries. A blanket and a hot tea should have been enough to take care of that. Unfortunately, Derek's blanket and Peter's tea somehow make it worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And another 'I'm cold' thing. Huh. Maybe I'm missing the low temperatures?  
> Anyway, his was supposed to be just a little fluffy sterek thing, but as you can see, it didn't stay that way. 
> 
> Come rant on steter, sterek and teen wolf in general
> 
>  
> 
> [here](http://promising-a-hurricane.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> .

“You alright there Stiles?“

He looked up, green marker sticking out from between his lips, to see the pack's eyes (minus Derek, because Sourwolf was doing super secret things alone again) on him. Especially Scott was staring at him with concern in his puppy eyes. He didn’t really hear what his best friend and brother of choice had said, but he definitely looked worried. Time to inquire.

“Huh?”

Yeah. Good old detective work there. His Dad would be proud.

The others kept staring at Stiles, Lydia already losing interest and averting her gaze after an exaggerated roll with her eyes. Because that totally explained everything.

“You’re cold”, Scott stated, edging closer.

“Not particularly?”

Someone groaned heavily. With a deepening frown Stiles looked over to crazy Uncle Zombiewolf who had just snapped his book closed and seemed to be heavily annoyed by something. It was kinda funny how he looked a lot more like Derek when he made that face, which was probably why Peter usually settled for that snarl thing he did with his upper lip.

“I’ll bring you a tea. Get a blanket Scott”, Peter instructed and gracefully lifted himself from his spot on the sofa. Stiles admired the view of his retreating back for a moment before he snapped back to reality.

Wait, what?

Dumbfounded Stiles stared after him, then after Scott who actually followed the order (the fuck?) before shooting Malia a questioning glance who just gave him the eyebrows. Damn Hales. Peter making tea was nothing unusual, but Peter making tea for _him_? The wolf would not live to see the end of his mocking if he actually brought him a cup of steaming greatness. Even if Stiles would have preferred hot chocolate, the whole event was definitely worth marking up in the calendar.

Well. Peter had been nicer to him recently, but this was still strange.

“Just leave the poison out of it, would you?”, he chirped, only to receive a sigh from the kitchen.

Contentedly he continued marking up the page on witches he was reading, just reaching an interesting passage when Scott threw a heavy blanket around his shoulders, resulting in a green streak across the page.

“What the fuck dude?”, he grumbled, rubbing at the paper, which only resulted in green fingers. He frowned down at them. Great.

When he took a deep breath, he realized the thing enveloping him was heavy and smelled a whole lot like Derek and Stiles was so not up for getting killed by the Sourwolf because now the scent of a hormone driven teenager with severe arousal issues was on his blanket. He tried shrugging it off with some graceful wiggles (yeah graceful, shut up) without letting go of the markers he now had in his hands, only to have the puppy shove it back up. He was really tempted to hit his nose with a newspaper and he might have gone through with that plane if one had been handy. Instead, like the absolutely not thick headed person he was, he tried again.

“Stiles, your fingers are white, your lips are blue and you’ve been shivering for the last ten minutes.”

His mouth fell open and he turned back to the true alpha, still itching to get rid of the heavy blanket pressing him down. Although it was admittedly comfy and smelled warm and spicy and…Stiles stopped his brain there before it rambled on further. Popping a boner in the middle of werewolves and in Derek’s blanket was _not_ on his list for the day.

“No I haven’t!”

Scott grabbed his hands and raised them before his eyes. Warmth spread from where the wolf touched him, but he was still about to protest until he actually glanced from the accusing stare to his hands.

“Oh.”

With fascination he observed the slight tremble of his bloodless fingers, only now realizing that they were numb from the cold. Experimentally he clenched and unclenched them, before wiggling them around unsuccessfully.

“Yeah, oh. How could you miss that? _I’m_ feeling cold just looking at you!”

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes. After the whole sacrificing-yourself-to-a-magical-tree-stump-and-getting-possessed-by-an-evil-foxspirit-thing his temperature was just lower in general. It wasn’t like Stiles was particularly cold throughout the day, but at night he sometimes buried himself under several cozy blankets so he had an actual chance of falling asleep.

And of course there had been that run-in with the witches from which he had mysteriously escaped without any major injuries, although he had been pretty sure something had hit him at some point. Stiles started pondering if there maybe was the tiniest possibility that he fucked up and got hexed. Not that he would ever admit to it.

“Really Mister Teen Wolf? Tell me more about how your body, which is practically a furnace on legs, gets the shivers by looking at me!”

“Shut up Stiles”, Peter threw in, gently setting a large steaming cup down in front of him.

“Thanks, I guess?”, Stiles said, eyeing the man hovering over him, and then the hot liquid, trying to judge if it was safe to drink, because now, he really did feel cold.

Finally, he decided to risk it and took a sip, immediately wrinkling his nose, because _of course_ Peter hadn’t added any sugar. But at least it warmed him from the inside and he felt a little more settled when he returned to his work, one hand still wrapped around the scorching heat of the mug.

After a couple more pages, his eyelids started to feel heavy and the lines became a blurry mess and he might have rested his eyes for a second, just to see the letters again. Just a short moment…

Suddenly he hears voices and surfaces again.

“Hey St-“

“Shut up Scott”, Peter hisses.

And yeah, that sounds pretty good right now. Shut up Scott. He nuzzles deeper into the warm softness.

“But we’re leaving and-“, Scott whispers.

Stiles could almost _hear_ Peter’s eye roll in the silence.

“Just let him sleep.”

“But-“

Peter snarled and Stiles shivered under the heavy blanket. He did his best to keep his heart rate under control because he really just wanted to go back to sleep and that meant keeping the snoopy wolves from knowing he was mostly awake right now. Luckily they seemed too occupied with their discussion to notice.

“He’ll be back here in four hours anyway. Just. Let. Him. Sleep.”

Scott huffed in frustration, apparently still indecisive.

“Alright. If you misuse our trust, I’ll make sure you burn until there’s nothing left of you to come back this time”, Lydia whispered.

Stiles smiled to himself as he heard steps towards the door and settled a little further into the surrounding warmth. As he was on the brink of slipping back to sleep, a hand snaked under the cover and settled in his neck. He was sure that if he had been more awake, he would have twitched, but as it wasn’t the case, Stiles only relished the feeling of the thumb of the big hand drawing soothing circles on his skin.

“Sleep Little Red”, Peter whispered in his ear and involuntarily he made an affirming noise and sank back into the black.

The next time he awoke (again to voices), he was no longer sitting at the table but instead sprawled out on a bed. Derek’s bed.

“What the fuck is Stiles doing in my bed?”, Sourwolf inquired.

“Sleeping.”

Stiles almost huffed out a laugh.

“Peter!”

“He fell asleep and I let him stay.”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s _naked_.”

“He isn’t.”

“Well _excuse me_ but it sure looks like it from here!”

“I got him out of his jeans and shirt”, Creeperwolf admitted.

Whoa. Now that was news. Peter had not only carried him over to the bed, but _undressed_ him? If anyone had been there to ask for his opinion, he would have said something witty about creepy wolves, but here in the silence it was alright to admit he didn’t mind. Fuck, he was so not ready to explore all the reasons for that.

“That’s basically naked.”

“He’s still wearing his boxers and –“

Oh. A pause. Peter hesitating while talking was rather rare.

“ _What_ , Peter?”

A strangled sound could be heard and a short silence followed.

“…he’s wearing my shirt.”

In the safety of the covers Stiles frowned and patted his chest. Yup. V-neck. Definitely not his. Carefully he tugged at the fabric and took a whiff. His nose filled with Peter's scent, a woodsy and musky scent, crisp and mixed with a hint of something spicy. He almost lost himself in it.

Derek made a frustrated noise.

“ _Why_.”

Peter growled, Derek growled (and god damn why could he even _distinguish_ them), then there was a shuffle and a loud thump. Stiles curiosity made him shuffle around until he could peek out from underneath the covers. This time he could do nothing against the acceleration of his heart beat.

The two wolves were on the floor, Derek on top of a very shirtless Peter with his fingers wrapped around the throat of his uncle, their faces only inches apart. And hello if that sight didn’t do something to little Stiles. He gulped heavily and adjusted in his boxer briefs as his blood rushed south.

He could see Peter roll his eyes. Derek’s grip tightened and both bared their teeth while staring each other down.

“Answer. Me.”

Once more, silence and intense staring. If Stiles didn’t know better, he would definitely call that whole thing UST. Fuck it, he's calling it that anyway because they are both insanely hot and if Stiles can't tap that (and he would), because he is an undesirable noisy little shit, they could at least fuck each other, right?

“He had your blanket and he smelled like you.”

Well. So far so easy.

“And?”, Derek urged.

Peter did that snarl thing with his upper lip that made something in Stiles lower gut twitch. Derek growled, his eyes glowing, and almost-claws pressing into the soft neck. At least Stiles wasn't the only one affected, even if  Derek's reaction probably had different reasons.

“I wanted him to smell like _us_ ”, the older wolf pressed out.

Stiles had to bite his lip to keep himself from making any noises. And fuck did he want to. Why the fuck… His head was a turmoil of half-thought sentences. Peter wanted his scent on him. And Derek’s. Theirs. His heart skipped another beat and his chest constricted painfully.

The seconds ticked by slowly, the tension growing to unbearable heights. Stiles watched their chest rise and fall with agitated breaths, emotions flitting over Derek’s face, the hold on Peter’s throat loosening.

Then suddenly Derek smashed his lips on Peter’s and Stiles couldn’t call it anything else, because it wasn’t soft or careful, no. It was pure and raw need. He couldn’t breathe. The kiss didn’t last and Derek pulled back, staring down with widening eyes, his shiny lower lip twitching slightly. Peter hadn’t participated, hadn't moved.

The younger wolf made a whining and frustrated noise low in his throat as he started pushing himself off. That's when Stiles saw Peter finally make his move. He grabbed his nephew’s wrist and twisted them around until he was on top of him. With urgency he dove in and claimed his lips with more finesse but not with less need. Derek gasped and Peter’s tongue slipped into his mouth, the older grinding their hips together with a wicked body roll.

Derek _gasped_. Stiles was done. He felt like an intruder. His brain told him to move, make a noise, anything. But he couldn’t, he was frozen in place.

Peter’s one hand pulled on the soft tufts of Derek’s hair, the other framing his jaw, while the other wolf’s roamed over the bare skin, urging Peter closer to erase even the last tiny space between their bodies. Derek moaned and rutted up into the hard line of Peter's body, which made him groan.

“ _Fuck_ that’s hot.”

Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth. Apparently his brain had won. Somehow. Wincing he cursed his brain to mouth filter. He shouldn’t have said that, definitely shouldn’t have said that.

He felt Peter’s shirt slip down his shoulder and – when the fuck did he sit up?!

The warmth is slowly seeping from he and he shivers at the cold air on his bare skin. Swallowing heavily, he let his hand sink down. He had bigger problems right now. Like two pairs of glowing eyes staring at him.

“Shit.”


	2. Dirty tricks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tadaaaaaaaaa! there it is. I absolutely thought it would be only around 3500 words, but yeah. That didn't work. Like KashiZii said "Holy snozberries Batman there's so much to expand on!" So now a hint of plot, insecure Stiles, no fucking communication and cum sharing. Yay. Have fun cupcakes ;) OH! I also made a collage with this story in mind.

He had a coppery taste on his tongue, his heart beating in his chest at a rate that could only be unhealthy. Not that it mattered since he would be dead pretty soon. Desperately he willed himself to at least now keep still. In the silence Stiles could hear only the blood pounding in his ears and nothing else.

Then, Derek bolted.

It was truly fascinating to see him move with supernatural velocity, twisting out right from underneath Peter, who apparently had been too distracted by Stiles to pin his dear nephew down any longer. He watched him jump to his feet, evading Peter’s fingers that nearly grasped his ankle, and just vanish out the door.

Stiles might be distracted by the view on his glorious behind, but the remaining wolf made a noise, a deep snarl that pulled him back, made him shiver and forget all about the heat that had been inside of him until a few moments ago. It all drained out of him, sucked along with the sound ebbing away. Stiles was frozen in place once more, only his mouth falling open as he watched Peter’s naked back strained with tension, muscles tight in his agitation.

The wolf certainly didn’t like it too much that Derek had chosen a method of dealing with problems that used to be Stiles’ domain: avoidance. Maybe he had spent too much time with the Sourwolf. His fingers twitched in the sheets as he stared at Peter’s back, trying to predict his next move. When the man finally turned his head from where he had been staring at the door, his face was as controlled as it usually was, his features a calm mask. Stiles shuddered when the older man fixed his eyes on him.

For a moment in the newly found silence, Stiles brain cleared a little, after having previously rushed through such reasonable thoughts as ‘I’m gonna die a terrible terrible death, ripped apart by werewolf teeth’ and ‘Can I survive this long enough to jerk off to the memory of the two kissing?’ or everyone’s all-time favorite ‘Fuck. My dad will kill me if I die’.

Now though, his mind was occupied with quite different thoughts as he sank into the incredible blue eyes of the guy who had just tongue fucked his nephew after admitting to having scent-marked Stiles to smell like them. On purpose. The wolf’s lips were noticeably redder than before and spit slick. It was mildly distracting to Stiles, and he bit his tongue in the vain hope the pain would aid not to lose focus too much.

Which didn’t work at all as he remembered the hand in his neck that had settled him so easily, the whispered words in his ear, the pure longing the wolves had displayed when they lastly snapped and crashed together like the shore and the sea.

But what was his part?

Obviously enough Peter and Derek wanted something with each other, and despite Stiles endless daydreams about either of their very lickable bodies, he was rational enough to know that that wasn’t happening. If no normal person wanted to tap that (and ‘that’ being the mole-dotted young man Stiles was), hotter-than-should-be-allowed supernaturals definitely didn’t want to.

Stiles cringed when his brain came up with a reason _why_ Peter had done it.

He wanted Derek’s scent. Because well, he wanted Derek, duh. And Derek’s scent had been all over Stiles, who was an actual living breathing person (if that would remain that way after this delightful day was a little questionable, but still) which he could approach easily. Scott had once tried to explain (and tried because he couldn’t find the right words, not because Stiles didn’t try to understand), that although certain smells clung to fabrics for a longer time, it was _always_ different on an actual (human) being. It had something to do with the body temperature, the pulsing blood, the soft skin…and Derek wasn’t usually up to touching. He seldom enough scented the puppies.

His stomach twisted. No matter how much he and his dick would have liked it, he was not supposed to be part of the Hale sandwich.

Peter wanted Derek, simple as that.

If any of the others had seen what they just did, they might have felt disgusted at the sight of the uncle exchanging bodily fluids with his nephew, but Stiles _understood_. There had always been that _thing_ between the two. Even if nobody else had, _he_ had seen it in the conversations they had held with eyebrows alone, in the glances each of them stole from time to time, the intrigues with which Peter saved Derek’s life, but which were constructed to make it look like he was still the uninvolved villain, or the way Derek punched him too hard in his frustration during training and Peter merely smiled with blood on his lips.

Sometimes he wondered how they used to be together, before the fire, but his mind always wandered back to the broken looks and bloody mouths.

Usually, Stiles had assumed it was his overactive mind, that maybe all those interactions meant something entirely different from what he thought they did, but hell, he _was_ the observant one, he figured things out. Hence, there had always been that voice in his head that whispered he was right about the twisted emotions that defined the relationship of the two Hales. He just didn’t interpret it quite so sexually.

But it made sense.

Peter was touch starved. He could act like a nonchalant ass all he wanted, but since he came back from the dead, everyone had been more than wary around him. Stiles probably was the only one who had touched him, and that was usually by mere accident. Not that he minded really. Stiles had never seen Derek touch his uncle, and although it was understandable with their whole relationship being a string of disasters, it was a pretty reckless thing to do to a wolf who was still stuck in mental instability. Because if Stiles knew one thing, it was that wolves were tactile with pack, craved the safety, scent and warmth. Hell, Peter probably didn’t want it from anyone but his nephew, and yet Derek had denied him it all.

Unfortunately, now, Derek had bolted after finally giving Peter what he wanted. And it was Stiles fault. He so wouldn’t have time to jerk of to it. Damnit.

“That was a rather unfortunate timing, Stiles”, the wolf snarled, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

He whimpered and Peter cocked his head curiously at the sound.

Shit shit shit.

Panic flared in his chest as he forgot to breathe under the scrutinizing stare. Stiles had definitely spent too many hours in the company of wolves, because he had no idea where that sound just came from. And so, his thoughts ran wild.

Despite his changed status, Peter still exuded Alpha with every cell in his body and the man’s dissatisfaction made him want to cower down with a whine, regardless of his defiant nature _and_ the fact that he was very much not a wolf himself.

He clenched his teeth, his eyes widening as he realized his sudden urge to actually please the man in front of him. It was not an entirely new feeling in itself, since Peter was one of the few people in Beacon Hills who had enough wit to compete with Stiles, but usually he strived to _impress_ the former monster with his brains and quick tongue. He also had no qualms of teasing him until he boiled with anger. Not that he ever showed it openly like Derek, but Stiles just knew how to see the annoyance in him. Something had apparently changed, and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he twitched with the urge to plead for forgiveness, to bare his neck, _anything_.

Something was wrong. This was _not_ normal.

While he was still caught up in his wonder about this new development, the man got to his feet with his gaze never leaving Stiles’. His heartrate spiked at the predatory stance he took. It wasn’t the only part of his body that took interest. He barely suppressed scrunching up his nose. There was a point to which he could blame certain things on his teenage hormones, but he probably had passed it a while ago. He must have a serious kink for intimidating people, if his not so infrequent fear-boners were anything to go by.

He could see Peter take in a deep breath, probably inhaling his treacherous scent, which was definitely his cue to follow Derek’s example.

“I should probably go”, he started, averting the wolf’s eyes to untangle his legs from the blanket. It wouldn’t do to face plant right now. “Thank you for letting me stay and –“

He realized his error as soon as his feet hit the floor, even before long fingers closed around his chin. Peter had used his avoidance to silently stalk closer to his prey, which he apparently was right now. Stiles started scolding himself inwardly, merely suppressing a curse. Averting his eyes had been a stupid rookie mistake. He should know this. He _did_ know this. And despite that, he still kept his eyes on the bare feet in front of him, the predator staring him down while a shiver crawled down his spine.

Stiles could feel heat radiating off the wolf’s body and he really _really_ wanted to close the few inches that were between him and the bare skin. It was itching uncomfortably under his own skin and finally, his gaze slowly wandered up over jeans-clad thighs until he could see the trained muscles of Peter’s abdomen.

Not only Peter was touch starved.

Being possessed doesn’t make you any more likeable and Stiles hadn’t started from the best point. Yeah, they had tried, but Scott shied away more often than not. It came to a point at which he even appreciated the not so gentle contact during lacrosse, or the occasional werewolf pushing him around.

Before he sank into his thoughts of misery, he was pushed (see?) back firmly. His arms flailed in the air as he tried to resist, but when a second hand pressed on his chest he finally lost his balance and flopped back onto the soft bed.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere sweetheart”, Peter purred, staring at him on the bed, where he was doing his best not to squirm around gracelessly. He was _so_ dead.

He gulped heavily and Peter rumbled out a content sound at the sight. Talk about confusing. Couldn’t he just rip his throat out and be done with it? No. They were still in Derek’s loft. He would be coming back sooner or later. And so would the others. He couldn’t do it here. Or now. Well, maybe now and flee after, although that just didn’t seem like Peter’s style.

The dipping of the bed pulled him back and made Stiles eyelids flutter higher to see the man planting his hands on both sides of his body, one knee on the bed between his own sprawled legs.

“It’s too bad we don’t have too much time, and I also would have liked for him to share this moment, but sometimes my dear nephew needs a little”, he crawled forward, his body sliding against his, “push.”

Peter rolled his hips against Stiles with the last word, and, yep, he just died a little. He was pretty sure all his blood was down where their bodies touched and despite his brain quitting its job entirely, he realized how hot he suddenly was. He was burning from the fire Peter had set alight in his groin, the sparks surging through his veins and lighting up all of his nerve endings.

“Ohhh fuck”, he stuttered as the man did it again. Peter only hummed contentedly.

“You surely don’t mind helping me out a little, do you love?”

Stiles blinked at him in confusion, his brain still hung up on the feeling of what was certainly Peter’s hard cock against his own raging erection. Hadn’t he just figured out that Peter only wanted Derek? What was he even doing??

The older wolf chuckled and dipped down, inching closer until their noses brushed. Stiles eyes flicked over Peter’s features uncertainly, a slight frown forming as he tried to understand what the hell was going on. The man had perfected his manipulation skills long before Stiles even knew what the word meant, and he usually got what he wanted, while hiding perfectly what exactly that was.

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he finally got the words out.

“I’m… I don’t.. I don’t want to.”

A devilish smirk appeared on Peter’s lips and his stomach clenched weirdly at the sight.

Oh fuck.

He closed his eyes for a second in frustration at himself, because even a human could have detected that that was a lie and Peter had very obviously caught on as well. Good job Stilinski. Totally convincing.

Stiles licked his lips as he continued to stare at the wolf’s, only to flick his gaze back up to Peter’s blue eyes to find them twinkling with amusement.

“Now that’s a déjà-vu. How lovely. Want me to repeat my part as well?”, Peter rumbled, delicately cocking one of his eyebrows.

The wolf pulled back down to his chest in which his heart was beating wildly, rasping his beard along the skin the V-neck left bared, all while his eyes never left Stiles’. Holy hell. His nose was full with the smell that was just _Peter_ and his skin tingled wherever he touched. Stiles could feel a blush bloom on his cheeks, his breath hitching at the slight scrape of the man’s beard as he nipped at the white skin.

Déjà-vu? He would certainly know if _this_ had happened before. Which it didn’t. Outside of his head. Fuck. Even _inside_ the scenario had been different. He never considered to have a Hale on top of him, more or less unthreatening (his dick apparently liked that…the wall incident with Derek gave him material for _months_ ) and dry humping him. Most certainly not after seeing them together. Like, seriously, who would want a sarcastic little shit when sex-on-legs Derek Hale was apparently down to get down with you?

“You know what I heard just then?”, the man started again when, for once, Stiles stayed silent. “Your heart beating slightly faster over the words: I. Don't. _Want_."

Oh. Ooooh. Right. _That_ happened. Peter offering the bite and…why did he even remember the exact words? It wasn’t so weird that Stiles did, because he had _obsessed_ over the moment, which admittedly maybe was a little weird. Hell, sometimes he still got stuck in his thoughts about that lovely evening. He always felt strange about the reality that Peter gave him a choice and respected his decision despite the lie he had told. It was probably the reason he wanted to believe him that he wasn’t the villain, just like his nephew wasn’t. And apropos…

He licked his lips and saw Peter track the movement lazily. He knew he should ask what it was that Peter wanted him to help with, because you don’t sign a contract before reading the terms and conditions, right?

But his mouth had different plans.

“Okay.”

For a second he wanted to bang his head against a wall, then maybe find a needle to finally sew his mouth shut so this kind of shit didn’t just happen anymore. Maybe the witches had hit him. Obedience spell? Did that exist? If they graced him with even less of a filter, he would find them to strangle them with a rope, because he seriously did not need that.

Then, the wolf smirked as he watched Stiles writhe under him and uttered the words that made him regret his decision a whole lot less.

“Good boy.”

Stiles felt his mouth drop open and stilled. His dick had been almost as uncertain as him during their conversation, losing and winning hardness with the different emotions, but it was definitely back to full stiffness with the words that vibrated right through him and seemed to settle as a fire deep inside of him.

Peter rubbed back up over his skin, nipping at it near one of his nipples after he pushed the V-neck aside with a swift move of his clever fingers. Then, as he wandered up further, he paused at his collarbone, digging his teeth in with more force and a surprised squeak escaped Stiles lips as his vision went white for a second at the pain. He shuddered as the following feeling of pleasure went straight to his dick. Peter only chuckled as he arched his hips and lapped with his tongue at the mark he had left.

The wolf’s second hand snaked underneath the fabric of the shirt and crawled over his stomach with nails that were too sharp to be human. Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to care as he pushed his hips upward into the hard body above him.

He breathed heavily and his fingers started to hurt. Only then he realized he had dug his fingers into the soft sheets with a force that turned his knuckles white. Slowly he relaxed them, raising one indecisively. Was he allowed to touch or would he lose a hand if he came to close? He was completely out of his depth here. Sure enough, he was no longer the blushing virgin, but he had no idea how to deal with what was happening, even if his dick was totally up (haha) for the fun.

 “Oh fuck it”, he finally muttered and dug his hands into Peter’s perfectly styled hair.

It earned him a growl that almost startled him into pulling them back, but the man didn’t make a move to detach his hands. Instead he resumed his grinding, and sucking on what was exposed of Stiles’ skin, tugging at the shirt to reach more.

Suddenly, Peter pulled away from him, and it left Stiles cold and aching as the friction went along with him. Goosebumps appeared on his bare arms, his hands falling limply to his side when he could no longer hold on to him. Before he could utter a complaint or think about why he had stopped, Peter had put a hand on his lower back and pulled him upright.

“Hands up.”

Stiles stared at him for a second as the wolf impatiently grabbed the hem of his shirt, then did his best to get his hands up as fast as possible to keep him from ripping it. He marked the direction in which it was thrown, hoping to steal it as trophy later. As long as it would go unseen. Peter would probably laugh at him if he ever figured it out.

Who was he kidding? As long as he had any proof that this wasn’t just his imagination playing a cruel trick on him, he’d be fine with a little humiliation.

Peter pushed at his legs until they opened further and settled back between them, the rough denim scratching on his thighs with his grinds and allowing some delicious friction for his achingly hard cock. As if that wasn’t enough, the man’s mouth finally attached itself back on him, his tongue drawing lazy circles until he reached one of his nipples. After a quick swirl around the pert nub he sucked it into his mouth.

An almost inaudible gasp slipped from Stiles’ mouth as he was engulfed in the wet heat of Peter’s mouth. He twitched vainly and unexpectedly teeth closed around the sensitive nipple, making him cry out sharply. A heavy hand settled on Stiles’ hip and pushed it into the mattress as he tried to evade the stinging pain.

“Please please _please_ ”, he whimpered as the pressure continued, but his plea went mostly unacknowledged.

The wolf moved his hand lower on his hip, the feeling of rough fingers dipping underneath the waistband of his briefs momentarily distracting him enough to endure the sharp edge of pain a little longer. He twitched again as Peter reached the base of his dick and suddenly, as with his move the teeth dug in once more, it slipped into high-pitched pleasure just this side of too much. He mewled and started to tug at the strands between his fingers as he arched his chest towards his torturer. With a pleased growl Peter finally let go of the nub and blew cold air on the wetness he had left behind. Stiles trembled and tried to catch his breath.

“Such a good boy. I knew you would do just fine”, the older man praised, his voice deeper than he had ever heard it, a little raspier as well. It was arousing to no end.

Stiles clenched his eyes shut, feeling the shame rise in red blotches on his cheeks when his dick twitched right underneath the tips of the man’s fingers. Peter rumbled out another throaty sound that was just animalistic enough to reveal his inhumane nature. His cock jerked again and the older man’s hand vanished. He whined. Had he fucked up already?

His fear dissolved and his eyes flew open as Peter buried his nose right beside the bulge in his pants, nostrils flaring again when he followed the hard line to the tip. There, where Stiles’ precum had stained the fabric, he sniffed more deeply with his eyes closed.

Stiles couldn’t keep himself from staring with a heavy gulp. How was this even real? His nipple throbbed, a bruise was forming on his collarbone next to the beard burn he had been marked with and he was achingly hard. On top of that, Peter fucking Hale was the one who did that to him. He desperately wanted to kiss the man.

But Peter had different plans.

He hooked two fingers into the briefs, pulled them down until Stiles cock sprung out and immediately burrowed his nose underneath it. He jerked at the sudden contact and Peter wrapped his large hands back around his hips in a bruising grip. Not that he could move much with the pants constricting his movements, too. As nothing else was in reach, Stiles wrapped his own fingers around the wrists holding him down.

“Hold still for me darling”, Peter hushed after another twitch, and despite the soft words it sounded like any disobedience would be followed by punishment.

Stiles wasn’t sure he would mind, but tried to remain motionless anyway. It didn’t really matter, since he just _couldn’t_ as a wet tongue licked at his balls and he clenched his thighs around Peter’s head.

“Fu-fuck…”, he moaned.

The wolf clicked his tongue and sat up before Stiles could utter another word. Worriedly he observed the man, who grabbed his legs and twisted him around onto his stomach. He yipped indignantly but stayed in placed when nails raked over his back and down to his ass, where they pulled the briefs down to his knees.

“On all fours.”

Stiles hurried to comply and pushed out his ass for Peter, ignoring the again upwelling embarrassment at presenting himself to the wolf so openly. An appreciative rumble quieted it fully.

With a quick jerk Peter pulled his briefs from his legs, before his upper body was pushed down into the pillows, which smelled so much like Derek that it made him salivate. It only added to the heady rush that was making it almost impossible to deny the wolf anything.

“Look at me.”

He dutifully turned his head on the soft bedding, straining his neck until he could see the older man. His mouth went dry.

Peter had pushed down his jeans and left them to pool at his ankles, one hand closed around his massive circumcised cock, the other still holding the briefs he had taken off of Stiles. He whimpered again at the thickness and length of the beast. Either born werewolves were big by nature, or the Hales had hit the genetic lottery in every physical aspect, because he was pretty sure Derek wasn’t any less equipped. Stiles had had the pleasure to lie on top of him, fortunately (not really but at least it saved him from the embarrassment of explaining a boner) paralyzed, so he got a pretty good impression.

Stiles was by no means small, but he missed the certain girth that Peter obviously didn’t.

Speechless, he watched the older man slowly jerk the base of his hard-on. He was obviously making an effort to avoid the tip that was glistening with wetness, but that still meant he could do quite a bit of tugging before he stopped and returned to the base. Stiles was mesmerized.

“What a lovely sight”, Peter offered with a smirk, and Stiles wasn’t sure if he was mocking Stiles for staring or actually commenting on his position. He was left to wonder. “Touch your cock little Red.”

He bit his lip at the nickname Peter had already used when he had sent him to sleep, but followed the order with enthusiasm. Touching his dick was definitely something he could do, so he wrapped his long fingers tightly around his own length and hissed at the pleasure. Then, he gave it a hard jerk and moaned in a way he would deny of being capable of to anyone else.

Before he could continue, a sharp pain flared on of his ass cheeks and he cried out breathlessly.

“Touching only. Clear?”

He whimpered, his face hidden in the pillow to hide the tears clinging to them. After two deep breaths he shivered at the warm pleasure radiating from his ass. Gulping, he slowly turned his head back to look at Peter, who watched him with a patient smile.

“Clear?”, he asked softly, as if he knew Stiles hadn’t heard him the first time because he had been too lost in the sensation of the spank. He probably did.

He opened his mouth, then licked his lips and decided to follow his instincts in the hope that this wouldn’t go terribly wrong.

“Yes sir”, he whispered.

His chest swelled when he saw Peter’s eyes flash and he heard the animalistic growl emerging from his throat. Stiles glanced down to his cock and saw another dribble of precum smear along the head of the wolf’s beautiful dick.

“Such a good boy”, Peter finally answered, leaning forward to palm his ass cheek one-handedly.

With the other hand the wolf rubbed the briefs along his cock, soaking up all the wetness, going so far as to also wipe behind his slightly sweaty balls. Then, with a content huff, he did roughly the same with Stiles, who only made an inquisitive noise.

Peter smirked.

“You know baby, werewolves are jealous creatures...”, he said ominously.

Stiles nodded, but didn’t quite know where the wolf was heading with this, since his brain was seriously not adequately supplied with blood at the moment. He had truly not jerked off enough the past few weeks if the little they had done left him so dazed.

Peter raised the soiled fabric to his face and breathed deeply, while pulling at the cheek he was still holding to expose his twitching hole. Stiles stomach twisted as his eyes, which seemed to be pinned just there, flashed again.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have that much time today”, he sighed, the regret in his voice and gaze obvious.

What? No. They had all the time in the world. Peter wouldn’t leave him hanging now, would he??

Quicker than he thought possible, Stiles was manhandled back around. Relief filled him as Peter settled over him, which quickly transformed into euphoria as their cocks brushed together hotly for the first time.

“This will have to do today sweetheart”, Peter rasped, finally also seeming affected by their contact.

Stiles could feel one of Peter’s warm hands wrap around both their lengths and immediately jerked his hips into the delicious heat, while curling his arms around the broad chest. It was maybe a little too dry, since the man had wiped away most of their gathered fluids, but it was still the best feeling he could imagine. The wolf growled and snapped his hips forward too, making Stiles moan filthily.

They humped against each other and into Peter’s hand, sharing openmouthed groans and growls as they leaned their foreheads together. He was contemplating on just going ahead and kissing Peter (hell, they were rubbing their dicks together, they could fucking well also make out sloppily), when the choice was taking from by the wolf pressing his own briefs between their faces.

For a fleeting moment, Stiles got scared at the lack of air and shallow breaths he could now only take, but with every single one of those breaths, he inhaled the thick scent of himself and Peter combined, with the barest note of Derek intertwined. Then, he began to greedily breathe deeper, the wolf doing the same while his hips snapped faster.

“Peter…”, he groaned muffled into the wet cloth, feeling his balls draw up, announcing that he was almost on the point of no return.

Peter tore the briefs away from their faces and he blinked to focus on the face hovering in front of his.

“Whenever you’re ready darling”, the wolf growled before increasing his speed once more.

Stiles only whined and thrashed under the massive weight of Peter, jerking every way to find his release, only finding it when the man suddenly latched back onto his already sore nipple.

He came with a cry, arching his back as far of the bed as the older man would grant him before sinking back down with labored breaths, Peter only a few thrusts behind him. He could feel the hot come pooling on his belly and moaned contentedly as he came down from his high, with Peter hovering over the collarbone that ached deliciously, already showing the beginning of a bruise, staring at him expectantly.

He stopped breathing.

Somehow, despite the distinct lack of usage of words (another glorious Hale trait), he knew what Peter wanted. His brain shouted ‘no’ at him, while his newfound instinct and longing to do what the wolf wanted poked at him insistently with a constant _yesyesyes_. Maybe it was only his cum-drunk brain that made him do it, but with a heavy gulp he slowly and deliberately tipped his chin up.

It was all kinds of dumb. They had shared an orgasm, but hadn’t even fucking kissed and it was so frustrating in its own way, but that didn’t quite explain why he was submitting to part-time psychopath and full-time schemer Peter Hale. He could only hope this wasn’t all a stupid and horrible mistake. Knowing himself, it was.

“Such a good boy.”

Peter smiled his predatory smile and closed his teeth over his throat with a soft pressure and Stiles went lax in the grip, giving himself over.

When he let go, Stiles mouth twitched uncertainly into a half smile, the wolf licking down his chest.

With a swipe of his tongue, the man lapped up some of their combined come, making his dick twitch with renewed interest, before swiftly wiping the rest away with Stiles’ briefs, an expression which almost looked like regret on his face. With a cocked eyebrow he watched Peter lean down and with an accelerated heartbeat, the wish for them to fucking finally share a kiss, he opened his mouth. And sure enough, the man let the come drip from his own tongue onto Stiles’ before chasing the slightly bitter and salty fluid in his mouth with a determined lick.

“Couldn’t we have started with that you ass?”, Stiles whispered against Peter’s lips between the kisses.

Peter growled, but Stiles was almost sure it was only playfully. Almost.

Much to his displeasure, they were suddenly interrupted by the ringing of a phone. With a sigh the wolf detached from him and fished for his jeans to pull the device out of a pocket. He answered the call with a roll of his eyes.

Stiles idly rolled over on his side, watching Peter kneel at the edge of bed. He lazily admired dark hair on the man’s thighs, his cock hanging heavy and still half hard between them, before letting his gaze wander up the chest to the nipples he certainly wanted to bite at some point as revenge.

“Yes”, Peter finally said and Stiles perked up.

But it remained the only word Peter said before he hung up. He stared at the wolf in disbelief. Communication skills for basic social interaction should be put into the pack training schedule. Against his nature, he waited for the man to speak up.

“They’re meeting at Deaton’s. If you want to go, take a shower. Do it thoroughly.”

The words were like a slap across the face. He had apparently fulfilled his use and was now being dismissed. Now that made it easier to define what this was: a mere hook up. Peter wasn’t even looking at him anymore, slipping on his jeans like he wasn’t there. This wasn’t supposed to hurt him like it did, he had fucking figured it out beforehand. Unfortunately, it didn’t keep it from doing so.

Biting his lips to keep himself from spouting nonsense, he jumped off the bed, collecting his things hurriedly (totally scoring the shirt, he deserved that okay) before scurrying off to the bath. He left his briefs behind for Peter to deal with them. It’s not like he could have put them back on. Even if he wasn’t too fond of going commando like the wolves seemed to prefer, it was way better than wearing cum-soaked underwear.

He paused in the door with his hand on the handle, glancing back briefly through the gap and froze. Peter was sniffing the pants again with a blissed expression, before he shoved them underneath Derek’s pillow with a smirk.

Stiles closed the door softly, and the realization hit him. He hid the hurt behind a smirk as he slid into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it went. The bites on his skin stung as he washed every other trace of what happened from his body.

_Werewolves are jealous creatures._

What crucial information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm, yeah. Tell me if I forgot to tag something? hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Come rant on steter, sterek and teen wolf in general
> 
> [here](http://promising-a-hurricane.tumblr.com/)
> 
> .


	3. FYI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that. A wild chapter appeared. And from Peter's POV, oh my...

Peter seldom was as content as he currently was. Maybe that even was an understatement. He was almost gleeful. And how could he not? Lovely little Derek had given in to some of his urges and he further had had the pleasure to devour Stiles like he had wanted to since he got to know the little human. He was looking forward to debauching him more thoroughly when his dear nephew joined them.

He cupped his dick lazily, as it twitched at the thought, and sighed. _Soon_.

That Derek had escaped his grasp again, and Stiles had left for his shower suspiciously quietly had admittedly put a little damper on his mood, but he would pull them back in. He had lurked around too long, waiting for a chance, to let his plan burn down to ashes so soon, because he was good at what he did, and that was to lurk and scheme and wait until he could step into action.

Peter had learned patience young, when he first realized that what he desired most, was his almost unreachable dear little nephew. Still clinging to the flimsy morals he had been taught, he relished in the cuddles and hugs his darling graced him with, shamefully hiding when Derek’s wiggling pulled Peter’s mind away from innocent thoughts.

He smirked remembering how much purer his love had been, the bone-deep affection he had held for Talia’s darling, compared to his darker desire now after life had swallowed him, twisted his mind around and spit him back out.

He had lost all naiveté. It burned away with the fire, leaking out of him with his own blood before he had been consumed by rage in his coma until he had been sure it was his true nature. Accurately enough, he was no longer what one would call a good man, but he had learned to walk the line between questionable good and outright evil. It was a hard lesson to learn, a lesson which he had only learned by losing his life.

Oh the heartbreak of realizing he made the one person he held closest kill him. There had been so much anger, fury and rage on both sides. After coming back, it had seethed in him until he came to his nephew and (after proving his sufficiently restored sanity) he had been pulled into a bone-crushing hug that eradicated all his anger. Still, the trust had been so outrageously _tentative_. On the one hand Peter was proud that Derek didn’t trust too easily, but they could have tended to each other’s wounds if the doubt hadn’t been imbedded in him so deeply.

Despite it all, the pack had identified Peter as evil and again, he couldn’t quite blame them. He spun intrigues, schemed in the darker corners, manipulated the more bendable teens. But frankly, Peter had had an epiphany when the Nogitsune had shown what truly evil intention looked like. And he and that Japanese demon had very few things in common. But like many other supernatural creatures they shared a common interest in a young teen with a tongue as sharp as Peter’s own and a soul that had yet to learn what mistrust towards him felt like.

Oh how poor Stiles had suffered when the taste of darkness had been forced on him. But just like Peter, he had come out alive and far more knowledgeable than before, his eyes opened to the bitter reality of shades of gray instead of clinging to Scott’s childish fantasy of black and white. For a while Peter had mourned how the innocence had partly faded from those lovely honey eyes, but his fascination with the now a little less twitchy human never vanished.

Almost casually he crawled back onto the bed and rubbed his body all over Derek’s sheets. The sweet boy wouldn’t be too fazed by his lingering smell. He had always enjoyed Peter’s scent, although he had before today taken to blaming it on the familial bond and the feeling of home it brought. More than once Peter had slept in his nephew’s bed to see him twitch when he crawled into the sheets later on. With delight he had observed him move restlessly and occasionally twist to his stomach to hide his erection. Well, only if he happened to be aware of Peter’s presence that is. Otherwise he shed his clothes and rubbed himself against the scent until he reached a relieving climax, followed by a bitter taste of shame.

What a sweet surprise it would be for Derek when he came home, lured to his bed by Peter’s scent only to find the smell of Stiles getting stronger the further he got to his pillow. The faster they dealt with whatever the problem was the pack had now, the sooner he’d get to see Derek squirm to hide what he felt.

Taking a last deep breath of the three of them combined, he swung his legs over the bed to follow the cunning little spark. Peter was clever enough to know he had to fool the pack for a little longer if he wanted both Stiles and Derek to be his. No one would ruin this. And if it meant he had to wash away this lovely scent to keep Scott from interfering, he would do it.

He slipped through the door to the bathroom and admired the sight of pale skin covered in a film of water, which made it shine brightly where the light hit it. Peter growled approvingly as his gaze wandered over the lean muscles of his legs to the round swell of his ass. Running with the wolves had done him a lot of harm, but his body had certainly profited in some ways that Peter could appreciate.

The boy whirled around at the sound of his growling, barely managing not to lose his footing on the wet ground, and glared at him. It wasn’t quite the reaction he had expected after their lovely jerk-off session. Peter raised an eyebrow in question, trying to understand the anger showing on Stiles’ features. Everything had been fine just minutes ago, so what had irritated him?

“Get the fuck out!”, he spat, his eyebrows scrunching and the corners of his mouth twitching downwards.

Peter frowned and stepped closer while keeping his gaze fixed on Stiles’ face. He should have known that the boy’s sudden silence was not a good sign. It never was. Luckily, he knew how communication worked (take notes Derek) and there was no way he was leaving the room without finding out the reason for the sudden change in mood.

“No”, he answered calmly as he approached further, seeing the twitch in the boy’s jaw before Stiles jutted it out defiantly. Peter usually loved that side of him, but the move promised trouble, and not the fun kind. His mind was already whirling through all the ways he could tame the boy, bend him a little to his desires.

“Out”, he repeated, spitting the word out and into Peter’s face as if it had a bitter taste to it he needed to get rid off.

When Peter remained motionless right in front of the shower, Stiles made an annoyed noise, turned off the water and tried to shove past him, only to be herded backwards by him with his body. Nonetheless, Stiles kept shifting in an attempt to escape his grasp. He felt the annoyance build in him, his wolf whining at why this man, who he had marked as his own, was not only angry at him but even tried to run away.

“Stop it, Stiles”, Peter finally growled as sharp nails scraped against his abdomen.

He caged Stiles, who now tried his best to avoid Peter’s gaze, between his arms. The Spark continued to twitch, his usually sweet scent heavy with the bitterness of regret and frustration. It riled Peter up, because he was certain Stiles wanted him, so what was there to regret?

“ _Stop_ ”, he snarled from deep in his throat, something like power building in his voice as his eyes flashed dangerously.

Surprisingly, Stiles whined before he actually stopped struggling, his muscles tensed and his slick skin carefully angled away from Peter’s. The air was however still heavy with the scent of frustration and anger, but Stiles remained motionless. Peter watched the boy tremble under his heavy gaze, his head tipping slowly to the side. He felt his eyes flashing again as he acknowledged the display of submissiveness and leaned in to close his teeth over Stiles’ throat before leaning back.

It was a curious thing how the boy seemed to know how to act like a wolf, much better than his best friend who actually was one. He had an intriguing idea why the spark reacted so strongly to his orders, something that was making his chest swell at the possibility, but right now his mind was too occupied with the situation to fully investigate it. Peter wasn’t really satisfied, merely a little placated by the compliant gesture. He pressed his body against Stiles’, finally breathing a little easier now that he was sure he couldn’t escape.

“No. _You_ stop it Peter”, Stiles whispered, raising his gaze to meet Peter’s. “I got the memo already, so will you please leave me alone?”

He was taken aback by the slightly pleading tone, the unreadable look in mesmerizing eyes. Apparently he had messed up already somewhere. He sighed and wrapped a hand around Stiles’ slender neck to draw soothing circles on the skin there while he shook his head to clear his mind.

“What do you get dearest?”

Whiskey eyes stared him down, lighting up once more with anger and hurt.

“Don’t. Call me. _That_.”

He cocked his head when the boy stayed silent after his words, and inched impossibly closer. Stiles squirmed uncomfortably in the attempt to evade his touch, but Peter stayed plastered to his front. Again, the young man made a whining and distressed sound, successfully agitating his wolf until his gums twitched.

“Stiles, answer.”

He watched the boy sigh heavily, before he finally caved.

“That this was just sex. Great sex admittedly, but I’m not doing it again, so just get off me so I can go to the others and pretend this never happened, just like you wanted to, okay?! I’m not your fucktoy until you get Derek, alright? I know you want him, so just fucking _stop_!”

Oh.

“And just fyi? I’m not really the best person to use if you want to make him jealous, you know? I’m pretty sure half the time he isn’t even aware I exist!”

Peter felt Stiles’ chest rise and fall in agitation against his own, silent for a long moment in his surprise, gob smacked by the words that were thrown at him. And here he claimed to be good at communication if needed (burn those notes Derek). He almost ruined his plan all by himself, simply because he forgot how _young_ Stiles still was, and how much insecurity was engraved into him through years of being ignored and ridiculed. He would fix that with time.

He put a finger under Stiles chin to keep their eyes locked as he spoke.

“Oh love. I have _always_ wanted him, never someone else.”

Stiles face fell, the muscles of his body tensing up more and he could smell the tears gathering in the teen’s eyes before he even saw them. The long dark lashes dropped in resignation, but Peter just smiled. Maybe his choice of words was cruel (the long pause before his next words _definitely_ was), but after all, he was not a good man.

“Until I met you.”

He could hear how his words made Stiles’ heart run away in his chest and just like he had anticipated, he seemed to be overwhelmed with the confession, his scent now sweet with hope and longing, with _possibility_. He couldn’t help the rumble escaping his throat as the smell became so thick that he could taste it.

“What?”

Peter chuckled as Stiles’ mouth stayed parted, his lips so very kissable.

“This town is filled with people suffering from severe cases of fatuity, naivety and utter ignorance, but you… you are enlightening in your ingeniousness. I was captured by that sharp tongue just as much as by the sinful lips containing it. You are enchanting. And now you are mine. As he will be.”

Stiles frowned, his mouth opening and closing as his agile mind obviously considered what Peter had said and how probable it was that the uttered words were reality. Before his thoughts could twist in too many directions, the wolf spoke again.

“You hear me darling?”

The boy’s eyelids fluttered as Peter slightly adjusted his hold to wrap his fingers around the pale throat. He didn’t need to apply pressure. The steady hold alone seemed to settle Stiles again, just as it had done before. He licked his lips as he blinked at Peter, carefully gifting his attention.

“You. Are. Mine.”

He could hear the delicious little hitch in Stiles’ breath, before a soft nod followed. It wasn’t the verbal confirmation he had aimed for (plainly to be able to hear whether Stiles still didn’t believe him), but it sufficed for the moment.

“And just fyi”, he imitated mockingly, “he is always aware of you. You see, Derek and I share a quite similar taste. I know he has a soft spot for you, as you should if you had paid attention earlier, and smelling us both not only in his den but right where he sleeps…”

Peter couldn’t help the self-satisfied rumble rising in his throat until his lips twitched into a sneer while he reveled in the thought. He couldn’t wait for that damn meeting to be over.

“…it will drive him positively insane. It’s his punishment for running off.”

He could see understanding flash in Stile’s eyes and watched with a chuckle as he let his head fall back against the tiles. His eyes swept down the long neck and the delicately formed collarbone, the skin already pebbling from the cold beginning to plague Stiles once more.

“Jealous creatures”, Stiles groaned at himself, the words giving him a clearer idea on what had caused this misunderstanding.

Peter only hummed in response, using his free hand to direct the warm stream of the shower head towards them while he began to nose behind Stiles ear. He could feel the spark swallow heavily under his hand before he let out a choked-out moan as Peter bit into the soft skin with blunt human teeth. There was another twitch much lower and his mouth widened into a wolfish grin.

“How much of a teenager are you still my darling?”

He raised his head to meet eyes sparkling with lust. He would truly enjoy indulging himself in making Stiles come again right there and then, preferably more than once, but there were some wolves circling around something that might actually be a problem for once. They wouldn’t truly know until they went to the meeting.

“Probably not enough of one to come and get out of here before someone worries you kidnapped me.”

Peter ran a thumb over Stiles’ plush bottom lip with a thoughtful expression, pretending to have just then remembered his status within the pack.

“Ah right. Evil undead wolf.”

Stiles grinned. “Zombie-wolf actually.”

He growled playfully and stepped back to give the little spark room to pass him. Partially also because it allowed him to languidly drag his eyes down that lithe torso towards the happy trail curling under his naval, and further down to where his cock was still half-chubbed.

His nostrils flared as the spicy note of arousal in the air spiked. Immediately Peter snapped his gaze back up, finding his precious darling eyeing him up as well.

“Be a good boy and go get changed before I get too tempted to disprove your words.”

Stiles gave a vaguely affirmative noise, his eyes slowly dragging back up from between Peter’s legs where he was lazily palming himself.

“Fine”, he sighed.

The boy took a half step back before he stopped, tilting his head slowly. In retaliation Peter raised his eyebrows, waiting for Stiles to voice whatever had crossed his mind now. The sparkle in his eyes promised something fun and Stiles didn’t fail to deliver.

“You think Derek would mind me borrowing some clothes?”

Seldom was Peter so pleased to be a competent judge of character.

“Such a clever boy”, he praised, reveling in the slight uptick in the already fastened heartbeat.

“Skip the underwear while you’re at it.”

Stiles winked at him over his shoulder and sauntered out. Yeah, Peter expected quite some entertainment in the near future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumbleeeeeeee](http://promising-a-hurricane.tumblr.com/)
> 
> .


	4. Make it hurt, make it bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhm. hi? no real smut going on in this chapter. mentioned though.

Against his expectation, Peter was annoyed. Thoroughly annoyed.

They had arrived fairly quickly, despite Peter considering at least eight times on the fifteen minute drive to put his hand down the too big sweat pants which were trying their damndest to hold onto Stiles slender hips. Somehow he managed to keep his hands to himself and he had strolled into Deaton’s office with Stiles in tow, barely containing a smirk. As expected the pack had turned their heads almost in unison at their arrival, taking in their still slightly muddled scents and how Stiles was definitely not wearing his own clothes. However, every smidgen of amusement had been eradicated as soon as his eyes had gone to examine the one reaction that absolutely mattered.

Derek had stood in the corner with the scent pain and blood clinging to him, even as his face had been frozen in his regular emotionless mask. His clothes had been singed in several places, tinted dark by the blood of wounds healed not too long ago. Peter had wanted to step closer, but Stiles had beat him to it. He had approached him easily, settling close to him and inquired what happened. Derek had looked like he would bolt again, clearly realizing exactly whose clothes Stiles was wearing so casually, but as soon as everyone else had been occupied with explaining, Peter had observed him leaning closer to the beautiful boy in miniscule increments. It had appeared to settle him slightly and only then had Peter edged closer as well, melting into the shadows as usual.

The emergency meeting had turned out to be the result of yet another attack by the very same witches they thought they had already chased off. He had rolled his eyes, _absolutely_ surprised by this _unexpected_ turn of events that absolutely _no one_ could have seen coming. He had found agreement to his own thoughts in the tightness of Stiles’ jaw, which probably resulted from him trying to bite down the ‘I told you so’ that he wanted to spit in Scott’s face. It had not been pure chance or curiosity that Stiles had continued to research witches.

Peter could only wonder how many lives it would cost until Scott started acknowledging that sparing everyone would not solve their problems. Certainly not a coven of witches feeding of dark magic. If the ancient and malicious symbols carved into the trees in the preserve hadn’t clued him in on that, nor the copious animal sacrifices, at least them trying to kill them all during the last encounter should have. And yet.

In the end it had taken the pack four hours to locate, fight and restrain the small coven to safely cart them off to Eichen House. He had earned himself a curious look from Lydia when he had offered to escort the transport, along with a satisfied one from Stiles. While the others had gone home to lick their wounds, he had made sure the witches ended up where they belonged. He had escorted them right up to the gate (Peter certainly couldn’t be bothered to enter the damn thing), and even had a quick talk with the guards.

And if these incorrigible witches happened to be cremated the next day after having committed mass suicide in their cells, it would merely be an unexpected turn of events that absolutely no one could have seen coming. He could not be blamed as there were several cameras which caught him leaving and not returning. There was no blood on his hands. Just a few dollars less in his bank account.

Now, he was finally back at the loft, annoyed, but also slightly placated at knowing these witches would never be a problem again after tomorrow. Although Scott definitely wasn’t his Alpha, it was hard shaking off old habits. Especially if someone important to him was involved. The years he had spent as the enforcer, who had allowed the almighty Talia Hale to walk as gracious queen while he spilled the blood to clear her path, had carved into his brain and muscles, never allowing him to forget. Even in the delirious space he had hovered in while awakening from his coma, he had been led by the urge for revenge, especially as his mind hadn’t been awake enough to control it.

He walked in, not even bothering to hide his deep inhale as there was no one there to see him do it. Immediately the wolf felt a little more settled. This was his den as much as it was Derek’s. Yes, he had an apartment, but he preferred staying here when he could get away with it. It wasn’t always as easy with the pack around, continuously reminding Derek of what Peter had done.

It didn’t matter tonight.

All Peter could hear, was the water of the shower and a single heartbeat that belonged to Derek. He listened to it quicken briefly, as his nephew apparently became aware of his presence, before it settled back in something akin its usual rhythm.

He reveled in the sound for another minute before he slowly approached the bed, cocking his head with a low hum as his nose caught the first scent of the present he had left Derek before the impromptu witch hunt. Despite the many years spent together, Peter had not been entirely sure how Derek would react. Even less so now when he was distressed after the attack and had evaded every attempt at eye contact so far. He had narrowed it down to a couple options, but he this was the first openly bold move. Maybe the unexpected situation would work in his favor and make Derek crave the comfort of him and Stiles even more, maybe it would send him into another fit of self-deprecating thoughts. Either way, he was here to watch it happen and find a way to fix it for his darling boy.

After another deep breath he retreated to the couch and slipped out of his jacket, pants and shirt, leaving him in his briefs. He was truly tempted to crawl into the bed, but Derek wouldn’t dare approach it then and that would just not do. Just as he settled on the couch and dragged a blanket over himself, he picked up how Derek shut off the shower.

Almost showtime then.

He lazily stretched himself out on his stomach, goosebumps covering his skin in anticipation. His mind supplied images of Derek’s wet torso, his hair softly hanging into his face, all hard angles put into contrast with the softness he allowed himself in a few chosen moments. Luckily, he was worn out enough that arousal was not yet a problem he had to worry about, despite Derek’s scent surrounding him so entirely and his mind still filled with wet, naked skin. Nevertheless, his claws began digging into the plush upholstery underneath his hands as his wolf prowled impatiently.

He would have him. One way or another, Derek would be his. He was not a good man. He did not have to play fair.

Peter’s dark thoughts were broken by the soft step of bare feet approaching. Quickly and quietly he retracted his claws and calmed his heart to fake a soft slumber. Derek stopped a couple feet away, and Peter could see the frown on his face as he pondered whether to say something or not, even with his eyes closed. After a few moments of silence, the wolf stayed true to his character and proceeded on his way to the bed.

Silently he waited as Derek shuffled around some more before lying down and getting under the covers. Peter began counting in his head while he listened to his nephew start to twist and turn noisily, unable to settle with Peter’s scent thoroughly spread. A smirk threatened to slip onto his lips as a frustrated huff reached his ears after a particularly loud turn and he finally opened his eyes to the sight of Derek pulling the soiled underwear from beneath his pillow. He could see the hand holding the garment shaking slightly as Derek’s nostrils flared, the pungent scent spreading while he stared down at his find. Peter’s dick jumped in interest as Derek whimpered lowly before he twisted around with flashing eyes, staring directly back at him. He blinked at finding him obviously awake, but regained his composure almost immediately.

“What. Is. _This_.”

There was a twitch in his jaw, where he tried to clench his mouth shut while still breathing in deeply through his nose, seemingly unable to tear himself away from it. Satisfaction bloomed in Peter’s stomach as Derek’s mouth finally fell open again to lick his lips and a complicated mixture of emotions appeared on his face.

Peter huffed. “That’s –“

Derek’s eyes that had wandered to his hand had shot back up to meet his.

“Don’t you _fucking dare_ say underwear!”

This time he did smirk, his eyes trained on his prey that was still holding on so tightly to the boxers that smelled so perfectly like lust and hunger and heat. Admittedly this impatient and confused anger hadn’t really been the response he had pegged as most likely. Actually, he had expected to be treated to another of Derek’s “discrete” jerk off sessions.

Oh well. Adapt, overcome.

“What else do you want me to say?”, he purred, cocking his head.

Derek bared his teeth in answer, snarling in frustration and anger. “ _Why_.”

In one fluid move, Peter got rid of the blanket and rose from the couch. With satisfaction he observed Derek’s eyes travelling the planes of his body, just as he started stalking towards the bed, letting the wolf claw to the surface enough to show that he was a damn predator that had his sights set on his prey and there would be no escaping this time around.

Derek’s muscles were coiled tightly as he watched the approach, his brows twitching as he awaited Peter’s response.

“Jealousy.”

The confusion following this answer was evident on Derek’s face and for once, Peter did not make him ask for an explanation, eager himself to end this stupid talking and finally sink his teeth into the warm flesh in front of him to mark it as _his his his_.

“I wanted you to be jealous that _I_ got to have him first, that he got to have _me_ first. Because darling, you think I don’t know you after all these years, but I do. And even if you like to pretend that I cannot hear or see, _I can_.”

Peter had finally closed the distance to the bed, and Derek had yet to move an inch as they stared into each other’s eyes with threatening growls rumbling in their chests. Still, he did not hesitate to put his knees on the bed and reach for the strong neck which was making his throat tighten up with _hunger_. His hand wrapped high around the back of the neck, the claw on his thumb grazing over the skin of Derek’s cheekbone down to the line of his jaw.

His blood was boiling, his breathing ragged and his cock heavy between his legs.

“I’m done pretending. I am done waiting.”

Peter let his claws dig deeper into the skin, greedily inhaling their scents as his eyes started to burn. His head twitched to the side as his wolf threatened to take hold of him, the shift rushing over his face before he pushed it back down to put his gaze back on Derek.

Suddenly he pushed his claws through, making Derek whimper and widen his eyes at what felt like betrayal. His pretty hazel eyes filled with resigned sadness as he let his body sack into his, and Peter clenched his eyes shut to be able to work past the lump that the look had put in his throat.

Then, he started pushing all those memories he had of him, before and after the fire, at him. The innocent lazy Sunday afternoons spend running through the sun filled forest, the shared meals, the good night stories, the cuddling. Then, the growing heat as he had watched Derek grow, the things he heard him do in the shower and his room, the longing glances he had shot him when his darling boy wasn’t paying attention, himself rutting desperately into his hand with his nose buried in a stolen shirt smelling heavily of Derek. And lastly, those burning images of stolen glances, of too long embraces, of Derek rutting into the vary same bed they were sitting, whispering Peter’s name frantically as he approached his climax, their frantic kiss…

It was want, despair, longing, pining, lust and love in all their soft pretty shades along with their harsh and crippling blades tearing into his flesh.

He felt his skin burn with it all, his insides hollowed out, as he finally pulled his claws back out and opened his eyes to a speechless Derek. Swiftly he pulled him in close enough to rest their foreheads together, letting their heavy breaths mingle, before he voiced his final challenge.

“Are you?”


End file.
